


One Last Chance

by VirtualxChaos



Series: Forever, The End [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-28 17:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20970392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualxChaos/pseuds/VirtualxChaos
Summary: "You're dead," Chris says hoarsely. "I killed you."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I first encountered this ship I was like "What? No! What?" And now here we are, lol. There's just something about the pain of loving your enemy that's hard to resist, I guess.
> 
> Also I thought Chris had brown eyes, but can confirm from that scene in RE5 where Jill is standing on his throat, he does in fact have blue eyes. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> (P.s. song is Without You by Breaking Benjamin. I think the lyrics are really fitting.)

"_All I have is one last chance_  
_ I wont turn my back on you_  
_ Take my hand, drag me down_  
_ If you fall then I will too_  
_ And I can't save what's left of you._ "

Chris looks at Wesker one last time, his roar of rage audible even over the helicopter beats as he stands in the heart of the volcano. Angry, inhuman red eyes meet pained blue ones, as Chris fights the emotion that threatens to choke him. His hate, his grief, the severed threads of sentiment that yearn for the captain he once knew. 

He takes a deep breath and grips the rocket launcher tighter, and fires.

\--

He wakes up gasping. It's dark and his heart is beating frantically, and in his panic he falls out of bed, not even noticing the movement from the other side as he does so. The memory is still fresh in his mind as he scrambles until his back hits a wall. His face is wet and it's hard to breathe, and he feels like the darkness is closing in on him.

"...ris. Chris!" 

He doesn't recall the light being turned on but suddenly he can see, and the sight in front of him makes his heart stop.

Wesker is crouched in front of him, shirtless and hands raised in a pacifying gesture, staring at him with worried eyes.

Worried, blue eyes.

Something touches his face and he jumps with a choked sound, garbled nonsense falling from his mouth as he tries and fails to voice speak. Wesker was dead! Chris just killed him. He can still feel the heat of the lava on his skin and the weight of the rocket launcher on his shoulder, the aches and pains from fighting. 

Except, his body doesn't hurt. And Wesker kneels in front of him, alive and whole, with human blue eyes instead of murderous red ones. 

"Chris, everything is fine. You had a nightmare," Wesker says, slowly laying a hand on Chris's shoulder. 

"You're dead," Chris says hoarsely, making him pause. "I killed you."

Wesker brushes the words off, tucking them away to worry about later. Instead he loosely grasps Chris's wrist, bringing it to rest on his warm chest where his heart beats strong and steady. "I'm right here. Here, breathe slowly with me." Chris feels his chest expand under his palm and subconsciously matches it, sliding his hand up his throat and over his jaw, rough fingertips caressing smooth skin where he remembers Uroboros mutating. He gets his breathing under control; it does nothing to untangle the storm cloud of emotions swirling in his mind, but it does help push it back until it becomes a wall of noise, his rational mind as a B.S.A.A. agent taking over.

How did he get here? _ Is _ he dreaming? But Wesker feels alive and real under his touch, the wall solid and slowly warming from his body heat as his shoulder blades dig into it. Thin cotton pants protect him from the cold hardwood floor. Over Wesker's shoulder he can see the bed, blanket hanging off the edge, presumably from when Chris tumbled out of it.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, and decides to treat this as reality until he can figure out what the hell is going on. It occurs to him that it's the middle of the night and that he woke up in the same bed as Wesker. He feels a pang in his chest. Did they… live together? What year was it? His head spun with questions.

"Feel better?" Wesker asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He nods. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?" Chris hesitates, then shakes his head. He feels like he's had two hours of sleep and then chugged a whole pack of energy drinks. Even if his body is tired, there's no way his mind will let him get any kind of rest. He has no idea what's going on and he needs at least _ some _ answers.

Wesker sighs quietly, taking the hand resting on his collarbone and kissing it lightly, oblivious to the fact that Chris's world has been turned on its head. "Come, then. Let's go sit down and find something to do," he says softly, drawing Chris to his feet and guiding him to the living room. 

It looks familiar, and Chris realizes as he's led to the couch that it's Wesker's apartment, although it's a little different from the way he remembers it. It's a little messier, a little more lived in. There are two coats hanging up by the doors and two pairs of combat boots sitting beneath them. Some dishes sit in the sink and a bowl of fruit on the counter, a mail holder with two slots, one neatly arranged the other with corners sticking out haphazardly. 

Chris finds himself drawn to the collection of pictures and sports emblems decorate the wall, familiar ones of the original S.T.A.R.S alpha team and of him and Claire, as well as an unfamiliar one of him and Wesker. It's a rare one of Wesker without his sunglasses, a soft look on his face and a hint of a smile as Chris laughs. He stares at it and feels his chest tighten painfully. 

A soft clink and the smell of coffee brings awareness back to his surroundings, and a moment later he feels a hand slide over his neck. He turns to find Wesker watching him, gives into the slight tug until he's in the circle of his arms, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around his waist. It's something that he hasn't had in years and the familiar feeling of it makes him want to break down all over again but he resists, hugging Wesker closer. Fingers comb through his short hair.

"It was just a dream, Chris," Wesker murmurs softly. "Everything is fine." Chris shakes his head but doesn't answer. There's no way it was a dream. He remembers every second, every zombie he killed and every word Wesker spoke, all the desperation of saving Jill and the quiet support Sheva offered him as they hunted down the man in his arms. 

Eventually he finds the willpower to pull himself together and shove all his emotions down, letting go of the other man. Wesker keeps an arm around his shoulders and draws him to the couch, putting a white mug with the S.T.A.R.S. logo on it in his hands, warm from the coffee. 

"What time is it?" He asks, taking a sip from the mug and promptly burning his tongue. Wesker reaches for the side table, an old gray flip phone in his hand.

"Almost five am," he says, and when he peers over his shoulder he spots the date in the corner of the screen. _ 06/03/98. _ Chris stares, mind whirling. 

He _ has _ to be dreaming. There's no way that's right. What was he doing before he went to bed? Did he work? Did he and Wesker have dinner? He can't remember anything leading up to waking up. Any minute he's going to find himself back on the helicopter with Sheva beside him. 

"Hey, what did we do yesterday?" He asks. At the looks he receives, he adds "Humor me."

Not putting down his raised eyebrow, Wesker answers him. "We went to work yesterday, investigating a case of disappearances and unusual homicides that's been happening over the last couple weeks. You went out for drinks with Jill while I stayed late at the office. I didn't get home until midnight, where I found you waiting up for me, with dinner you'd made in the fridge. Then we went to bed. Chris, are you alright?"

"I'm going crazy," he mutters, taking another sip of coffee and putting it back on the coaster. 

Silence answers him, and then, "What did you dream about?"

Chris looks at him. If this isn't real, then it doesn't matter what he tells Wesker, right? He doesn't really believe it, but he's weak to the man sitting beside him, looking at him with those blue eyes and a look of concern that you wouldn't be able to spot unless you knew him really well. A slight downturn to his lips, a crease between his brows. This is _ his _ Wesker, the one he fell in love with, before he became a power hungry monster that killed their teammates. It hurts just to look at him. He takes another steadying breath and opens his mouth.

And promptly closes it again. He can't do it; even if it's not real, he's not ready to ruin this just yet. He shakes his head and tucks himself into Wesker's side, breathing in his scent and his warmth. Wesker wraps both arms around him and draws him closer, and they just sit like that for a while. The steady, comforting beat of Wesker's heart lulls him into a light sleep. 

A loud beeping jolts Chris awake again. Its light out this time, sunlight filtering through the living room windows. He's still curled up against Wesker's side, head resting on his shoulders and arms around him keeping him upright. He yawns and sits ups, a small green blanket falling from his shoulders. When did that get there? 

He feels a kiss on his temple and then Wesker is standing, taking his coffee mug with him to the kitchen. Chris stares after him, picking up his mug and drinking the cold coffee as the fog lifts from his brain.

He's still here. It wasn't a dream. Or-- no, he's heard of people going to sleep and waking up in dreams, not trusting reality when they finally did wake up. Maybe this is like that. With a sigh, he stands up and stretches, and heads for the bedroom. Guess he better get ready for work.

\--

A week. A whole week has gone by of sleeping and waking up again in this place and he's having a hard time convincing himself it's still not real. A week of seeing Jill the way he remembers her and the rest of the alpha team still alive and well. A week of pretending this is his life and telling everyone he's fine, just a little stressed, even if Wesker doesn't seem convinced. A week of nightmare-memories that remind him he didn't imagine it all. 

It's Saturday. Chris manages time to talk Wesker into not working all night, so now they're home and making dinner together, Chris cutting up and seasoning the chicken while Wesker sets the water to boil and retrieves the pasta. It's a comfortable atmosphere as they work in tandem, classical music playing quietly from Wesker's radio. It's not exactly his tastes, but if it's what the other man wants to listen to then he's not going to object. 

They eat dinner on the couch, and Chris puts the tv on to a random movie. He doesn't want to watch the news and think about work right, he just wants to relax. He sits leaning into Wesker's shoulder, foot crossed under the other man's and hooked around his ankle. Wesker raises an eyebrow but doesn't protest, raising a forkful of fettuccine to his mouth. 

After Chris finishes he leaves his plate on the coffee table and dozes on Wesker's shoulder. His dreams have left him feeling unrested each morning, so it's hard to resist the pull of slumber when Wesker is warm and comfortable next to him.

He's not sure how much time passes when he feels the soft touch of lips on his. He hums and kisses back, feeling Wesker's mouth quirk into a smile against his. He keeps pressing forward until Chris is laying flat on his back on the leather cushions, feet still on the floor. Wesker's warmth encompasses him, tongue slipping into his mouth as Chris clutches at his shirt collar.

"M' tired," he murmurs, when he feels cold fingertips gliding over his abdomen. He hears him chuckle and then the touch is gone. 

"I suppose it's late enough." Wesker kisses his temple and then he's being picked up. He wants to protest, he really does, but he's just so tired. 

He doesn't bother opening his eyes as Wesker sets him down and tugs his pants off, leaving him in his briefs and undershirt. He hears the light click off and then the bed dip on one side, waiting until he's settled before throwing an arm and a leg over him. Wesker chuckles and wraps an arm around him, and then he's out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Everything hurts. It's hot and he's tired and he has to keep going because he can see Sheva running from Wesker not too far away. Ouroboros has completely mutated his arm, the infection growing from his chest and eating through his skin disgustingly. Chris shoots at him with his magnum, trying to buy Sheva a little more time, a little more distance. Wesker looks up at him and then is suddenly right in front of him, reaching out with Ouroboros, and Chris's back slams into the ground. _

It's two am, and Wesker is getting tired of this. Chris has not gone a single night since the first without a nightmare, and waiting for Chris to bring it up first has proven to be a pointless endeavor. None of them have been anywhere near as bad as the first, but it still leaves him gasping and shaking as Wesker gets up to turn the light on. He turns around to see Chris sitting up and rubbing his face, taking shaky breaths to calm himself. He sits behind him and runs his back soothingly, a frown betraying his discontent. Chris leans back into the cradle of his body and Wesker wraps his arms around him, legs on either side.

He waits a while after Chris calms down, before deciding that he cannot wait any longer. "Enough of this, Chris. What is going on?"

Chris shakes his head, a denial ready on his tongue but Wesker cuts him off before he can get the first word out. "You've been acting strangely all week. I've seen you staring at your phone like you don't know what to do with it, and Barry tells me you've been rereading old case files, which you never do." Wesker's voice is cold and emotionless, and Chris knows he's angry. "I've seen you look at Jill like you haven't seen her in years, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at me. Like I'm going to disappear at any second. Tell me what's wrong."

Chris stares down at the bedsheets. He's not getting out of this, he realizes. At least not without serious consequences. And he's not ready to lose Wesker. Not again.

Still, he hesitates. "You won't believe me," he says, glad he doesn't have to look at Wesker. 

"Telling me _ something _ would be a start," Wesker says snidely, but Chris knows that underneath that he's hurt that Chris would hide something from him. Like Wesker wasn't hiding plenty.

Still, he can't help but get angry. Even as he tries to reason with himself that telling him won't accomplish anything, he can't help the words that force themselves out of his mouth. "Wesker, I'm not even sure if this is real right now!" He bursts out. He runs a hand over his face, immediately regretting it as Wesker sits silently behind him.

"What do you mean?" He asks, voice carefully flat.

Chris sighs. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Sitting here, talking to you. These dreams.. they're not just dreams, Wesker. They're memories." Every word feels like a mistake, but it's too late now. Wesker asked for this. "I… I killed you. You betrayed us and killed the team, and went mad and became a monster. You tried to take over the world. I hunted you for years."

Its quiet again. He can feel the mounting disbelief with every second that passes, until he can almost anticipate the words that come next. He doesn't want to hear them; he knows it's a mistake, but there's no going back now.

"Chris--"

"I'm not crazy," he says, voice cracking. 

"None of that happened, Christopher," Wesker says seriously, alarmed to hear this, what it meant. _ Was _Chris delusional? "Jill and Barry and Joseph are all alive and well, and I'm right here. They're just dreams."

"Then tell me you don't work for Umbrella," he demands quietly, and Wesker goes still. "Tell me you haven't been working with William Birkin on creating the T-virus and that you didn't create the Tyrant Project." 

The room falls dead silent.

Wesker is stiff as a board behind him. Chris tries to sit up, but the arms around him are hesitant to let go. He just sighs. "Wesker," he says. After a moment, Wesker let's him go. He doesn't go far, just enough to turn around and look at the man behind him. 

Wesker's face is a blank canvas, but Chris can tell he's looking for a way to deny everything Chris just said. Chris stares back at him and wonders. Can he save Wesker? Is that even possible? He never did learn Wesker's motives for the things he did. Eventually Wesker went mad with power and tried to annihilate the human race, but that's not where everything started. Was it possible to save him? To save his team? Granted this wasn't a dream, unless Chris was in a coma, he just had to assume this was all real until he woke up back in his other life. Could he save millions of people from the destruction that Wesker created?

Wesker, on the other hand, quietly wonders what he’ll have to do to protect his secrets. It hasn’t occurred to him until now that spending time with Chris might be more than just a pleasant pastime. Committing Chris to a psychiatric hospital is the most generous he can think of. It’s an ugly thought. "Chris," he starts.

"Don't." Chris rubs his temple, feeling a headache building. He can't keep doing this. He's fought this fight for the past ten years, he's not strong enough to do it again."Don't lie to me. Just. Whose side are you on? What are you after, Wesker?"

Chris looks up to find Wesker watching him, searching his face. He has no idea what the other man is thinking, but when he catches his gaze, some unnameable emotion flashes over his face, to quick for him to decipher. He never did learn the full story. He just remembers the dread of being on the other end of the man’s gun barrel, of finding out that no, they hadn’t been betrayed, that Wesker had been a facet of Umbrella all along.

He pauses then, vaguely recalling the other man’s words. Plans of betraying Umbrella. 

Chris runs his fingers through his hair, staring hard at the other man. As much as he wants to save Wesker from his fate, he can’t give him an out. He finds his resolve, squares his shoulders, and waits.

“Freedom. From Umbrella.” He doesn’t add any of the other things that follow those words in his head, but it’s a start, and it’s the truth.

“From Spencer.”

His lip curls in an automatic snarl, just barely managing to hold it back. “That _ feeble _ man has no power over me. His delusions will be his downfall,” he hisses angrily, startling the other man. Clearing his throat, he smooths a hand over his hair, feeling flyaways catch on the side of his palm. Chris’s untrusting eyes soften the smallest bit. So after a moment of regaining his composure, he opens his mouth, and he talks.

\---

The days countdown until the Arklay Mansion incident. Raccoon City’s downfall. Every day that passes puts Chris more and more on edge, until he’s reading all the news articles and information in the police database that they have on Umbrella. When his nightmares wake him up close to sunrise, he puts on his shoes and he runs until he has to get ready for work. In the afternoon he spars with his teammates with his teammates until he’s exhausted, or he spars with Wesker until he lands on his ass and can’t get up again.

At one point he lands hard on his back with Wesker looming over him, weight pressing down on his chest, and suddenly he’s back in the Volcano, surrounded by lava and Wesker bearing down on him with murderous eyes. He comes back having a fit on the floor, claw marks marring Wesker’s face, neck and hands, blood under his fingernails with Barry and Jill holding him down on the mats until he stops struggling. He doesn’t say anything as they let him up, leaves their questions unanswered as he flees the room. 

(He apologizes for that one, that night. When Wesker comes home he sees the scratches are shallow and have been cleaned of blood. The air is tense between them, but he makes it a point to snag his hand as he tries to pass by Chris on the couch. “Do they hurt?” “No.” “...sorry.”)

Wesker still makes it a point to hold him after every nightmare. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it makes it worse. Some nights he takes comfort in the fact that the man beside him is still _ his _ Wesker; other nights he has to grit his teeth against the grief and the rage, curls into his arms and fights the urge to end it before it can truly begin. 

  


\---

  


After weeks of the the case building and bodies adding up, Chris finds himself in the mansion with his team, angry with himself for not being able to save Joseph, again. By the time they’d been informed of their mission, Bravo Team had already been deployed and taken out, with no chance for him to intervene. But they’re here now.

“Split up; we’ll cover more ground that way, and rendezvous back here,” Wesker says.

“No,” Chris says before anybody can move, staring hard at Wesker. 

“Chris--”

He snaps, and before anyone can blink he has his gun trained on his captain. Both Barry and Jill shout in alarm, but neither draw their guns or move to stop him.

“I’m warning you, Wesker,” he says, hands steady even as he breaks out in a cold sweat. Two beats pass, and then Barry is drawing his gun and pointing it at Wesker.

“Barry!”

“He’s a traitor, Jill,” Barry says hoarsely, the finest tremble betraying his nerves.

Chris and Wesker stand motionless, gazes locked.

“Chris.”

“_ Wesker, _” Chris says harshly, voice cracking, almost pleading. His eyes turn glassy and threaten to spill, but he holds them back. “Don’t make me do this. Thousands of lives are on the line. Don’t make me choose.”

Wesker stares hard into Chris’s blue eyes, and it pains Chris to think that this might be the last time he sees those eyes. 

After a long, drawn out moment passes, Wesker’s expression softens, and his shoulders slump. Then he takes a deep breath, and he’s all business again. “There’s a secret facility under the mansion that holds a self-destruct code for the mansion. I can’t guarantee that we’ll be able to save everyone, but we can try.” 

Chris searches his face for another long moment. Everything hinges upon Wesker’s decision. Despite his words, despite the slim chance that Wesker is actually telling the truth, its a higher chance than they have without his help. It’s all or nothing.

Chris holsters his gun.

  


\--

  


In the end, they can’t contain the virus. Despite Wesker’s last minute declaration, the virus had already been released and Wesker’s access revoked by the Red Queen. They still manage to destroy the mansion, tyrant still slumbering in its tank, but it's not much better than the first time around. Four grim faces watch the mansion burn as the helicopter carries them away. 

A hand grips his and Chris tears his gaze from the flames to meet Wesker’s, eyes full of an unspoken promise that give him hope for a better future. 

_"I wanted to forget_   
_ I'm trying to forget_   
_ Don't leave me here again_   
_ I'm with you forever, the end."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'll write something with an actual coherent plot and meaningful character interaction. Today is not that day. ^^'' I'm thinking of starting a series on Chris and Wesker's doomed relationship. We'll see.
> 
> Also if you're wondering about Wesker's thoughts on all of this, yes he has a lot of questions, no he doesn't know what to make of Chris's apparent knowledge. I thought about including it but I decided to stick to primarily Chris's POV, so it's not really clarified. 
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
